Witchy Woman by Karen Leabo Page B

wasn’t
about
to happen.
    Tess awoke feeling much more clearheaded. She took a shower, and even though she had to put on yesterday’s clothes afterward, she still felt fresh and quick-witted.
    Nate’s bedroom door was closed, so she figured he must still be asleep. Rather than wake him, she wandered around his living room to see what she could learn about him. She resisted the urge to use her gift to glean information. That somehow didn’t seem fair when he couldn’t do the same with her. Instead, she relied on the old-fashioned tools of observation and logic.
    He liked to read—everything from Mark Twain to Stephen King, and
lots
of biographies and other nonfiction. He also had an extensive and varied CD collection, including Bach, Al Jarreau, and … Twisted Sister? And magazines. He subscribed to everything Publisher’s Clearinghouse offered.
    His furniture was good-quality stuff, though not the latest style. He went for neutral colors, clean lines. His housekeeping was adequate, though not compulsive. Dust lurked in some of the more remote corners of the room.
    On to the kitchen, a little square of linoleum barely big enough to turn around in. Standard bachelor farehere, including the obligatory six-pack of beer, some stale bagels, one lonely egg, ketchup. Toaster pastries. Chocolate-nut bars. A half-empty gallon of ice cream. So he had a sweet tooth.
    Beyond that, she couldn’t draw any conclusions except that he was a typical guy when it came to feeding himself.
    A gurgling noise behind her made her jump and gasp. She whirled around, expecting to see something awful. Instead she found the coffeemaker. She could only conclude that her host was indeed awake. Her suspicions were confirmed when she heard the front door open and close. She peeked around the corner of the kitchen to see Nate standing in the living room, wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants and running shoes, studying the front page of the paper. A damp T-shirt was slung around his neck.
    The skin of his torso looked so smooth and tan, she found herself wanting, actually
wanting
, to lay her palms against it and feel the warmth and vitality beneath them.
    Though she was positive she hadn’t made a sound, he looked up. “You’re awake.”
    She nodded. “You’ve been outside?”
    “Went for my run.”
    “How was it?”
    “Fine. Oh, you mean, did anything bad happen? No. I wasn’t struck by lightning, no garbage trucks tried to run me over, and I especially didn’t see any knife-wielding Gypsies bent on mayhem.”
    Tess realized she was holding her breath. She releasedit, focusing on slow, steady breathing for a few seconds. He was making fun of her, but her relief that nothing had happened to him overrode her irritation. Anyway, she’d learned as a child, ostracized from her peers because of her strange ways, not to respond to teasing. “I’m glad you’re all right,” she said sincerely.
    He laid the paper down on the coffee table and came toward where she lurked in the kitchen doorway. “Were you really worried about me?” he asked. He stood close enough to her that she could smell the faint muskiness of a healthy male after exertion. The scent was surprisingly pleasant. She could almost feel her hormones bursting into bloom, her own body producing answering pheromones.
    “Um, yes,” she managed. “I know you don’t take this curse stuff seriously, but I do.”
    “I’ll admit, you had me a little spooked last night. But it’s a lot less scary, now that the sun is shining. It’s a beautiful day out there.”
    He flashed her a grin, then slipped past her into the kitchen. He grabbed a mug from a stand, then pulled the half-filled carafe away from the coffeemaker and stuck the cup directly under the spigot without spilling a drop.
    “You like coffee?” he asked. “I made enough for two.”
    “Yeah. Thanks. Unlike certain impatient people, though, I don’t mind waiting till it’s brewed.” She found herself smiling